The Princess and the Hound Read Online Free PDF

off together and laugh at how clever he had been to get her free to spend time with the horses.
    But it did not work that way.
    The king was in the bedchamber already, as was Lady Fittle. They were discussing the case of a man in the northern part of the country whose eyes had been burned out because he had been judged to have the power of transforming himself into an eagle.
    “But why?” asked George, his curiosity overcoming his distaste for Lady Fittle.
    “Because no man should have an advantage like that over another. And because it is unclean for a man to become what he is not,” said Lady Fittle. And then she said, beckoning with both hands, “Come here, dear boy.”
    The king pushed George forward to Lady Fittle.
    His mother stepped between them, nearly colliding with Lady Fittle as she did so. “George, this is no place for a little boy,” she said roughly.
    George struggled not to let his eyes fill with tears. His mother had never spoken to him so before.
    He stared at her once, to give her a chance to take back what she had said or to explain it. But she only pointed to the door.
    George ran out, all the way down the stairs, past the kennels, and into the stables. He wrapped his arms around Honey, who asked after the queen, but Georgewould say nothing. He would not speak a word of the horse’s language. That belonged to his mother, and he wanted nothing to do with her then.
    That night, still hiding in the stables, George heard two of the king’s messengers speaking as they brushed down their horses and readied them for the night.
    “There are some who are known to have a gift of touching those with the animal magic, of knowing with that touch if they have it or not,” said one man. “They say Lady Fittle is one of them, that she has been sent to make sure the king’s court is free of such evil. Of course the king welcomed her. What else could he do? He cannot allow anyone to see that he is easy on the magic.”
    The other man shivered. “Well, I hate the sight of her. And I’m no lover of the animal magic myself.”
    They went by, and George was left to puzzle out their meanings. How much longer could his mother keep herself from Lady Fittle’s touch? How much longer until the queen was known to have animal magic—and her son as well?
    George went numb at the thought. It was too terrible to dwell on, so he pressed it out of his mind. He kept away from both his mother and Lady Fittle, and he kept away from all animals as well. He played with his hand-made creatures and kept to himself until that night, when the king entered without the customary knock, his face utterly changed.
    Stricken. Panicked. Unsure.
    Whose face was this? Not the king George had always known before. Another time it might have frightened him. But at the moment George was too afraid of his own guilt in speaking to animal friends, even pretend ones, to feel anything but fear.
    The king must never know. His mother would never forgive George.
    So as quickly as he could, George hid his creatures behind his back, the tiny bear made of a fluffy bit of dark lamb’s wool, the fish made of a polished black rock, the robin made of maple wood, and the vole made of an old sock.
    His father nodded to him, then held out his hands.
    George was unsure for a moment what that meant. Was he to clasp his father’s hand? He saw that his father’s eyes were red. Was he ill? That was when George began to think of death, but not of his mother’s. Never his mother’s.
    “We get along well enough, do we not, you and I?” asked the king.
    George sat gingerly on his father’s lap and craned his head away from him. His smell was so strongly…human.
    “I was once a boy, and you will be a man one day. The king, as I am.” The king went on.
    George shrugged.
    The king took in a breath, then seemed to choke on it. George did not understand until later that thiswas his way of weeping.
    “I have come—I have come to tell you—”
    George waited.
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